Let's simply celebrate Pietersen's potential for greatness

Twenty-one months and 28 innings, to be precise.

But Kevin Pietersen finally hit his first Test century since March last year.

That he converted it into a double century merely emphasised the fact he is back with a bang.

It was a beaming Pietersen who left the ground after day three of the Adelaide Test.

He had 213 to his name – his first three-figure Test score since his 102 against the West Indies in Trinidad – and had put England into a potentially match-winning position.

Geoffrey Boycott called it arguably Pietersen's best innings for England, while Shane Warne reaffirmed his belief that the 30-year-old is the most naturally gifted batsman he has seen.

From zero to hero in the space of a few hours, Pietersen banished almost two years of intense frustration.

Although the flat pitch and moderate bowling must be taken into account (this is Australia's worst attack since the mid-1980s),

Pietersen pulverised the opposition in a manner that fair took away the breath.

As his confidence soared and the Australians wilted, the old swagger returned as balls were whipped to the mid-wicket boundary from outside off stump and good-length deliveries carted with contempt.

Only when pace bowler Ryan Harris hurried him with a few sharp bouncers did Pietersen look remotely perturbed.

Otherwise, it was a master-class from arguably the most entertaining and enigmatic batsman of his day.

When Pietersen performs as he did at Adelaide, one cannot help but feel conflicting emotions.

On the one hand, happiness intermingled with relief that he finally appeared to be back to his best.

On the other, there was that nagging sense that he remains unfulfilled at the highest level.

Despite a Test average of just under 50, Pietersen has only scratched the surface of his prodigious talent.

He has the ability to become an all-time great if he can reproduce the form – and, above all, the ruthlessness – he showed in Adelaide on a consistent basis.

For it is that ruthlessness to churn out the really big scores that sets apart the truly exceptional, the ability to convert 150s into 200s, and so on.

In recent times, Brian Lara has displayed that characteristic – as has Sachin Tendulkar.

But Pietersen, for whom the big shot is often as tempting as whiskey to an alcoholic, has often failed to cash in on promising platforms.

At Adelaide, he showed what he is capable of achieving over the next five years or so if he continues to work hard on that aspect of his game.

In the wake of Pietersen's double hundred, perhaps the biggest question is: why has he latterly failed to produce such form?

Why did he go 27 innings without a Test hundred – a remarkable drought for one so gifted?

Beyond the reality that even the greatest players suffer slumps, one cannot help but feel the loss of the England captaincy was the single biggest factor for his unexpected downturn.

Pietersen's insurrection against previous England coach Peter Moores, which saw him lose the captaincy in January 2009, cannot simply have been a mere coincidence.

When Pietersen was deposed as leader, he developed a lingering and understandable resentment of the England and Wales Cricket Board.

He felt unfairly treated by his superiors and probably lost a bit of his appetite.

Then came difficulties with an Achilles injury, which reduced his participation in last year's Ashes series, and a much-publicised falling-out with Hampshire.

He has been through a tempestuous period on and off the field, which has distracted from the primary purpose of scoring runs.

For as Pietersen showed at

Adelaide, he is at his best when he plays instinctively, when his mind is free of peripheral clutter.

The way he tore into the Australian attack was reminiscent of the way he battered county attacks into submission when he first arrived in England in 2001.

It was the Pietersen who brutalises rather than bats, the Pietersen who sets out to overwhelm and stamp his authority in a way few have achieved in any generation.

It was the Pietersen who refuses to be dictated to but who plays the game on his own, refreshingly original terms.

Inevitably, people will talk at length about the way the big stage brings out the best in him and the positive effect of his pre-Ashes trip back to his native South Africa.

Pietersen spent time working with Graham Ford, his mentor since schooldays, to iron out one or two technical flaws.

But the reason Pietersen's century drought has ended is really quite simple.

He has gone back to his natural game of bullying the bowling, of taking the fight to the opposition – a tactic that paid off handsomely in Adelaide.

That innings was just the kick-start Pietersen needed – but it was only a start.

He is sensible enough to realise the next golden duck is just around the corner, the next adverse newspaper headline just a click of the keyboard away.

The road to greatness – the road navigated by such as Lara and Tendulkar – can only be achieved through consistent performance.

It is not enough to scale the heights every so often; big scores need to become a habit.

There is much about Pietersen that infuriates: the bling, the bravado, the injudicious remarks, the overt showmanship that offends English sensibilities as surely as a belch at the dinner table.

But there is also a lot of twaddle talked about a man who provides as much enjoyment as any contemporary – twaddle born more of disapproval for his personal characteristics, one imagines, than for his cricketing prowess.

Pundits routinely pick holes in Pietersen's technique and criticise his propensity for outrageous strokes – censure that is sometimes deserved, but often unfair and occasionally imbued with a hint of jealousy.

Far better to celebrate Pietersen for what he is – a genuinely great player who gives pleasure to thousands and who could yet join the ranks of the all-time greats.